Prayers of Agnes Sparrow

by Joyce Magnin

  “I am so glad you came to your senses and came home, Griselda. She needs someone here—full time or as near as full time as possible. That attack could have been fatal. Full time is how she needs you. Can you stand that?”

  I sighed. I didn’t know the answer.

  Doc went back to Agnes and listened to her chest. “Better. Keep breathing.”

  “Maybe it's time to start thinking about Greenbrier,” he said when he got back to me.

  I peered out the front window. Hazel Flatbush and Tohilda Best had stopped out front. It wasn’t hard to imagine their conversation.

  “That's the Doc's car,” Tohilda would say.

  “It certainly is. I wonder if Agnes is sick. Well, it just serves her right.” That's what I thought Hazel would be saying.

  Doc got my attention. “I’m serious, Griselda. She needs care that maybe you can’t give.”

  Tears pooled in my eyes, and Doc took my hand. “You’ve worked hard, but it might be time now.”

  Doc hustled back to Agnes, and I stole away to the kitchen and started coffee percolating. Arthur mewled for his breakfast.

  “Okay, okay. It's coming.” I plopped a can of a seafood banquet in his dish and refreshed his water. “There you go.” He purred and slinked in and out of my ankles.

  Doc was listening again to Agnes's chest when I got back. The blood pressure cuff, the largest one he had, was wrapped around her forearm.

  “Rest and medicine,” he said. “And think about Greenbrier, Agnes.” He looked at me. Then back at her. “Griselda can’t take care of you forever.”

  Her eyes grew big and her breathing heavier. Doc patted her arm. “Calm down, Agnes. You knew this day was going to come.”

  Agnes closed her eyes and pushed the back of her head into the pillow. Her breaths came slower after a minute or so.

  “Good,” Doc said. “I gave her a sedative. She’ll rest now.”

  He pushed his stethoscope into his black bag. “Can you stay with her today?”

  “Sure. Yes. I’ll be here. All day.” I looked at my sister. Her color was better and her breathing calmer, but there was still panic in her eyes.

  “Anything I should know?” I asked Doc.

  “Keep an eye and an ear out. Call if you need me.” He made his way to the door.

  “Griselda,” he said, “I’m serious. It's time to think about Greenbrier.”

  He opened the door, stood on the porch, and yawned.

  “You might be right, Doc. Maybe now is the best time when people are having their doubts about Agnes.”

  “That's got nothing to do with it, Griselda. It's her health I’m worried about. I don’t give a hang what people at the Full Moon are saying. And I advise you to do the same. All this miracle junk.” He practically spat.

  I moved past him and sat on the wicker rocker. He sat next to me. “I’m just as guilty as all of them, Doc. I never said this before but I think I might have believed in Agnes—in the miracles, the prayers, the power—and maybe I blamed her to for Vidalia's death and Hezekiah coming to town.”

  “It's time to let it go. Let her go.”

  “I don’t know if I can, Doc. For so many years she was all I had, all I could care about.”

  “Even if it means she’ll die, Griselda?” He patted my arm. “I used to think Agnes's prayers were a good thing. A hobby of sorts. Frankly, I still have a hard time with the so-called miracles, but dang if I can explain Stu's cancer disappearing or Cora's heart mending or even Ruth Knickerbocker's bleeding ulcer going away; but now, who knows. Maybe God is shutting that door, Griselda. It's time for Agnes to rest from all this. Time her health came first.”

  I walked with him to his car. He had parked on the lawn so many times there were permanent ruts in the grass and dirt.

  “Doc, I feel like I need to tell you something about Agnes. About why she started praying and let herself get so big and— and stopped going outside and all.”

  Doc opened the car door and tossed his bag inside. “I’m listening.”

  I took a deep breath. “It happened a real long time ago.”

  I stopped and looked out over the mountains. The green had come in and the hills sparkled in the sun. I turned back to Doc. “There was an accident.” My heart pounded as second thoughts drifted into my brain.

  “Yes,” Doc said, “an accident?”

  Tohilda and Hazel came back the other way, each carrying a brown bag of groceries and yakking up a storm.

  “Oh, it's nothing. I think I’m being silly. It's not important.”

  “Griselda?”

  “No, really, Doc. It's nothing. I better get inside.”

  I hurried back inside before the women could stop and ask any questions. I saw them from the window. Doc took care of it and was on his way home in a few seconds.

  Tohilda and Hazel stared at the house. I watched them shake their heads in unison and then walk off.

  Agnes was asleep—peaceful and quiet. The wheezes were gone; her chest and belly rose and fell in a more regular rhythm. She looked like a baby, a big, fat baby. I wiped sweat from her forehead with a tissue and adjusted her blanket.

  “I’m sorry I left you,” I whispered. “I’ll never leave you again.”

  The sign came down the next morning. Fred Haskell and Frank Sturgis tore it down. Stu told me later that day that they destroyed the thing—hacked it to splinters with an axe. Well, so be it.

  The early spring day was warm. I opened windows and let the fresh air and oxygen circulate through the house. Doc had been by several times since Agnes's asthma attack and each time he suggested the nursing home. “It's really not a bad place. You could have your own room and plenty of people, day and night, to care for you.”

  “It’ll be like being in the hospital all the time, until the day I die,” Agnes said. “They’ll treat me like a patient. No, I’d rather die here.”

  She looked at me and waited as though I was supposed to jump in and defend her.

  “We don’t need to discuss this now,” I said.

  Doc shook his head and sighed. “You’re both being foolish.”

  I walked him to the door as usual. “Especially you, Griselda.”

  “Me? What about me?”

  “Being foolish. You’ve dedicated your whole life to her.”

  “I had, too, Doc. There was no one else.”

  “I know, but you’re still a young woman.”

  I snorted a laugh. “Young?”

  “Young enough. You deserve some happiness. Maybe this whole thing was necessary. Maybe this whole debacle was a sign. All the time people were looking toward the wrong sign.”

  I opened the door, and we went outside together.

  “I love the spring,” Doc said.

  “Me too. It's like the whole town has been through something together—the miserable winter—and then all of a sudden, in the course of a day or two or three the sun shines, the air warms, the flowers bloom, the birds sing, and all is right with the world again. A new start.” Doc smiled wider than I think I had ever seen him smile. “I’m sorry,” I said, “for going on like that.”

  “Sounds like a prescription to me.”

  Not a single person came by for two weeks. Not a single bunion, wart, or dead car battery was brought to Agnes's attention. And you know what? The people survived. They got along just like they always did.

  I went back to work, and Agnes and I settled into our daily routines. The library was a lonely place without Vidalia. The Society ladies had come in twice, and each time they held their meeting and said precious little to me. Tohilda tried to explain.

  “Griselda, I had to say what I did, being the president of the Society of Angelic Philanthropy. There was just no denying that Agnes's prayers had a direct influence on the circumstances that brought that terrible Hezekiah Branch to town.”

  “That's right,” Hazel said. “Why, it's just as plain as the nose on Eugene Shrapnel's face.”

  She didn’t have to be rude, but
few people could pass up an opportunity to mention Eugene's nose when they had the opportunity.

  I smiled and went about my business, all the time wondering what they would do if they knew about Clarence Pepper. The Society of Angelic Philanthropy probably would call for Agnes to be tarred and feathered.

  Agnes missed the visitations, but she never stopped praying. She just prayed differently, not so much for miracles but for peace and calm and for God's will and mercy to cover our town like a smooth, cotton blanket. That's how she said it.

  “Lord, will you lay down your peace and mercy upon this town. Lay it down like a warm, cottony blanket fresh from the dryer.”

  God answered—again. Soon the town was back to its old self. Winifred and Toby came and put Vidalia's house up for sale. It had been a long time since I saw a For Sale sign go up in Bright's Pond, and I must admit it struck me kind of hard. I missed Vidalia all over again. I did what I could to help, loading furniture into a rented moving van, scrubbing down counters, and sweeping out rooms. I managed to take the blood-stained rug and trash it before Winifred or Toby found it. My heart sank when Toby closed the van doors.

  “Thank you, Griselda,” was all he said. Then he reached out and hugged me close, which was something like getting hugged by a grizzly.

  “I’m sorry what I said about Agnes,” Winifred said.

  “I understand,” I said.

  Winifred even stopped at the house and said good-bye to Agnes. They both apologized to one another.

  Maybe I had gotten too used to the calm, but I let myself believe that the town had made some sort of peace with Agnes and Hezekiah, but as it turned out, I was wrong. Folks still didn’t trust her. Around breakfast time one day, I stopped into the Full Moon to say hi to Zeb. I made the mistake of talking out loud about my sister.

  “Agnes is still praying,” I told Zeb. “Goes through her notebooks all day long.”

  Hazel walked past just as I said those words. “Still praying? What's she praying for? I hear tell ain’t nobody been to see her in weeks. Ain’t nobody asking for miracles.”

  Zeb shook his head and went back to the kitchen. I couldn’t help myself and let a small chuckle escape from my throat. “Oh, Hazel, Agnes doesn’t need a person sitting in her room to pray, and it isn’t always about expecting miracles.”

  I couldn’t tell what she thought about that exactly, but she harrumphed and sashayed out the door, kind of like Eugene Shrapnel did when he couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Zeb brought me scrambled eggs and toast. “You heading to the library today or going home?”

  “Oh, I might open the library. I received a shipment of new books and some magazines I need to catalog. I’ve been kind of lazy about it though—the library I mean.”

  “Yeah, I can understand that. Working alone most days and then going home to Agnes must be tough.”

  “Sometimes. I see Mildred Blessing more than anybody; she reads all those crime and detective books. The library is on the route Al Capone takes when he's on the run, so it's kind of funny to see that dog running past the window while Mildred is checking out crime stories.”

  Zeb laughed. “I can just picture that mutt with his goofy grin sitting there on the grass and waiting for her to come outside to take off.”

  We both laughed, and I sipped my coffee. Zeb headed back to the kitchen again. I watched him move around preparing eggs and sausage. Babette had school, so Zeb was working as both cook and waiter.

  “Did Dot quit?” I asked.

  Zeb dropped a dish with eggs and sausage onto the pickup counter and then came around through the door. “No, she didn’t quit. Just had some errands, so I gave her the day off. Babette will be here later. She's got an early dismissal.” He grabbed a damp rag and wiped down the counter next to me. “I thought we might go out again sometime. You know, another movie, if it's all right with Agnes and all.”

  My heart sped up just a tick or two. “Sure. I’d like that.”

  I finished my breakfast and walked the long way to the library. The air was warm and new small leaves were bursting out on the trees. The maples and oaks and even the birch trees looked bright in their spring attire. There was a hint of honeysuckle nectar in the air that stirred up melancholy inside me. I really didn’t want to go back to the library. Mildred had already gotten her week's worth of books, and I wasn’t expecting the society for a few more days. I headed home thinking about Zeb.

  31

  Agnes,” I called from the entryway. “I’m taking the day off. So I’ll be home for you.”

  I stopped in my tracks when I heard what I thought was a muffled sob coming from the viewing room. For an instant I thought Agnes had a visitor, and my spirit quickened thinking that people might be coming back.

  Not wanting to interrupt I tiptoed down the hall and peeked into the room, expecting to see Dot Handy or even Hazel Flatbush blubbering about their corns and bunions. There was no one there but Agnes. I caught sight of her just as she wiped her eyes with two fists full of Kleenex.

  “Agnes, what's wrong? Are you sick?”

  She shook her head and burbled at me. “No—not sick. Not like you think.”

  I sat down next to her and waited for more.

  “I can’t stop crying. It's like the dam busted, Griselda.”

  I held her chubby hands in mine and looked into her eyes. “What is it, Agnes? You thinking about Clarence again? Vidalia? Cora?”

  She nodded. “All of them. Everybody. It's like my heart has been so full of everyone and now it's busted its seams.”

  “And it's all just pouring out?” I touched her cheek.

  She blubbered into more Kleenex. “Cora and Ruth, Studebaker and Clarence, Mama and Daddy—everybody, Griselda, everybody I ever knew, ever prayed a word for.”

  She adjusted her nightgown and tried to maneuver into a more comfortable position. “I’m so sorry, Griselda. I’m so sorry for not telling you, for not telling Daddy or Doc, or confessing to the Peppers.”

  My lower lip quivered. “Now you’re making me cry. I’m sorry I got mad at you, Agnes. I should have understood. I should never have left you.”

  We sobbed in each other's arms for a couple of minutes until we found the courage to pull away and replace the sobs with smiles. “I love you.” We both said it at the same time.

  Agnes's breathing sounded ragged, and I wanted to help her avoid a full-blown attack. “I think we could both use a cup of tea and maybe a slice of pie.” Zeb had been sending me home with pie for days. Agnes said it was his way of courting me. She said he’d probably sink an engagement ring into meringue someday, so I should be careful how I swallowed.

  “Nah, he isn’t thinking that far down the road. He just asked me to another movie.”

  After tea and pie Agnes took a short nap while I did laundry and dishes. The kitchen cabinets needed organizing, but I passed on them, excusing myself because I needed to buy new shelf paper anyway.

  A few minutes past eleven Agnes called for me.

  “Griselda, I’ve been thinking. There's something I need to say.”

  I sat on the sofa with a basket of technicolor towels piled next to me. “Okay.”

  She swallowed and then heaved a tremendous sigh that seemed to come from all the way down near her ankles. “Doc is right. It's time for me to go to Greenbrier.”

  “Agnes. What? Why?”

  “It's time. And that's all I’ve got to say on the subject. But there's something I need to do first.”

  “Agnes, this is so sudden, we should talk—”

  “I made up my mind, Griselda. Now, like I was saying, there's something I need to do first.”

  I took my sister's hand and looked into her eyes. She had made her decision.

  “Sure, Agnes, what do you need to do?”

  “Take me to church. I need to finish something before I go to the … nurs … nurs … nursing home.” Those last two words stuck in her throat.

  “Finish?”

 
“I want to finish Communion. I never did after—well after that day. But I can now. I want to have Communion and then I’ll be ready to go.” Her bottom lip quivered, and her eyes sparkled with the tears of someone who just saw their sin close up and found God's grace.

  “I don’t know if I can get down the porch steps anymore,” she said, “so you might need to call some men over to help.”

  When I stood my knees went wobbly, not because of the task of moving Agnes, but from an overwhelming realization that my sister was leaving. I knew it was for the best, for her best, even possibly for mine. But it stung like bees. “I know. It might take a little while, Agnes, to get you over there.”

  “It's a journey I got to take.”

  “I guess I can call Stu and maybe Boris, and I should have Doc here.”

  “Call Ruth, too. I need to say goodbye to her.”

  “You mean you want to go right away.”

  “Right away. I’ll tell Doc to call and make the arrangements. Knowing him he probably already has the place on standby alert, waiting for the fat woman to arrive.”

  I made some quick calls. Everyone was home and everyone wanted to help, although I could hear over the phone that Ruth got a little choked up—something I was trying my best to avoid. But then all of a sudden the two of us started to blubber.

  “I’ll be right over,” Ruth cried. “It's going to be okay, Griselda.”

  “I’ll need something fresh to wear,” Agnes said. “Maybe my purple housecoat. I think I’ll wear those new slippers you bought me.”

  I helped Agnes into her soft purple housecoat. It was one her favorites—the color of a plum with shiny, silver buttons that glistened when the sun burst through the window.

  It took some doing but we pushed her feet into the new slippers. I wrapped a large paisley scarf around her head. Her hair was a bit greasy, and she wanted to look her best for Communion. Then she sat down on the red velvet sofa with one hand on her walker, waiting.

  Ruth arrived first and went straight to Agnes. “What brought this on? Are you sure, Agnes?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Agnes said. “It's been a long time coming, and I finally decided the time was right. Remember how I used to tell folks who came in for prayer that sometimes a miracle had to do with timing—the fullness of time?”